


a christmas to remember

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: “I want to see what he brought you, yeah, but, darling, can’t we sleep a little bit longer?”
Relationships: Heather Louise McCartney & Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	a christmas to remember

“Daddy,” Paul heard an insistent voice whisper in his ear, and he lazily opened an eye, a vaguely-focused Heather-type shape having come into view, before he patted the spot on the bed beside him, hoping the little girl would concede to a cuddle rather than forcing him out of bed. He was quite knackered, and though the honourific that Heather had finally decided he was worthy of warmed his heart, he really needed an extra bit of sleep. “Daddy, come on!” 

Beside him, Linda let out a snore. 

“Don’t you want to cuddle with us?” Paul asked Heather hopefully. He squinted at the clock that was on the bedside table, and tried not to cringe visibly at the time. “What’re you doing up so early, anyways, kitten?” 

If Ruth had tormented his child, he’d throttle her. Paul had done his best to try to insist that Heather bunk in with him and Linda when they’d arrived at his father’s house after the debacle that had been the Apple Christmas party, but Ruth had asked for Heather to sleep with her, and his own child had betrayed him by going along with what she’d wanted. 

“Daddy, Santa’s come!” Heather insisted, her tone filled with hushed awe. The fact that she’d called Father Christmas Santa betrayed the fact that Heather wasn’t from England, in spite of her flourishing accent, but he didn’t draw attention to it. He knew that Heather was sensitive about their differences. “I mean, Father Christmas,” she corrected. “Ruth told me,” she continued, as she stood at the edge of his side of the bed. “There were so many presents!”

Bloody Ruth, encouraging his child to be up and about and excited for Father Christmas at five in the bloody morning, he groused inwardly, though he did his best not to let his aggravation at his younger sister show to Heather. 

“Of course, Father Christmas has come,” he mumbled, as he let out a wide yawn. “That’s brilliant, isn’t it?” 

Heather nodded. “Don’t you want to see what he brought me?” 

Paul knew what Heather had gotten from Father Christmas -- he’d had a rather brilliant time going Christmas shopping for the lass -- but he didn’t see the harm in letting her think that the jolly old elf up north really existed. 

He was just so bloody tired. 

“I want to see what he brought you, yeah, but, darling, can’t we sleep a little bit longer?” 

Heather glanced over at her mother, who was sprawled on her back, her exhaustion evident. Linda had barely stirred since they’d finally made it to bed after setting up the Christmas presents for Heather -- he hadn’t even bothered to suggest that they welcome the holiday with a bang, because she’d been as alert as a zombie -- and there was no sign that she was even aware that Heather was there, let alone awake enough to properly celebrate the day. 

“Mummy’s tired?” She asked him, her thumb gravitating to her mouth. Heather was almost aged six, and Paul knew that she needed to stop that, but it was Christmas morning. He wanted her to be happy. So he didn’t tell her she couldn’t. “Cos of the baby?” 

“Well, yeah, the baby’s a part of it,” he hedged. He couldn’t exactly tell Heather that they were knackered because of wrapping her pressies. That would have been a cruel way for her to find out the truth about Father Christmas. “She’s just tired, y’know? We’ve been doing a lot lately, I think that she just needs to sleep a bit more.” 

Heather seemed to be contemplating this. She furiously sucked her thumb as she did. “Okay,” she whispered. “We can cuddle for a little bit.” 

He grinned. “That’s a good lass,” he whispered. “I love you, duck.” 

“Will you pick me up?” Heather requested. She held out her arms, clearly in need of some physical contact. Paul knew that -- as excited for Christmas as Heather was -- she was nervous about the Christmas dinner that Mike had planned at his house. “I love you, too.” 

He settled her on the bed, in between him and Linda. In contrast to himself and Linda, Heather seemed to be entirely wide awake. Paul envied her that. 

“Did you have a good night?” He asked her. Paul hadn’t wanted to let Heather share a room with Ruth, but he hadn’t been able to say no to the look on her face when Ruth had expressed an interest in doing so. He’d have been keen to say no to Ruth, naturally, but Heather was his daughter. It was different with her. “With Ruth?”

“Uh huh,” she whispered, as she snuggled closer to her mummy. “She was nice to me.” 

“Was she?” Paul was pleased to hear that. “That’s brilliant, darling.” 

“Do you think they’ll be nice to me?” 

Paul’s head had sank back against the pillow, and he shifted so that he could face her. “Who, darling? My dad and his wife?” 

She shook her head. “Uncle Mike’s family,” she whispered. 

“Of course, they’re going to be nice to you,” he promised. “Mummy and I, we’ll stay with you the whole time, I promise.” 

“You promise?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I promise. I want you to have the best Christmas, darling.” He ruffled her hair. “I love you.” 

  
  



End file.
